Unbalanced
by Tri Lorian
Summary: A broken sword and the consequences. {Complete}


Woads seemed to attack from everywhere. Arthur had hardly managed to fight off and kill one on his right side as the next one was waiting already. Excalibur clashed heavily with the sword that had been aimed at his throat. Lancelot was fighting back to back with his commander, which gave the two men some sense of security in the midst of the battlefield.

Lancelot's twin swords cleaved the air with gracious movements, swift motions and deadly precision. The Sarmatian bored the blade in his right hand in his opponent's stomach, while he used his left one to block the attack with a spear from another blue painted warrior. Blood sprayed everywhere as he drew back his right sword and the Woad dropped dead to the ground without another sound. The sound of breaking metal seemed to be the only sound reaching Lancelot's ears at that precise moment. Immediately he became aware of the loss of weight in his left hand.

Galahad and Tristan were the only two of the knights that were still on horseback, both holding their bows ready to take care of any danger that threatened from too far away to be dealt with on the ground. Galahad watched in horror as Lancelot stood completely still, looking stunned at the sight of the broken sword in his hand. The dark knight seemed completely unaware of the spear in the hands of the Woad that was once again pointed at him, at his heart.

The youngest of the knight nocked another arrow on his bow and with perfect aim it flew the short distance to embed itself forcefully into the shoulder of the arm of the man holding the spear. With a loud scream, the Woad dropped the spear to the ground. The loud scream seemed to shake Lancelot out of his trance and he looked up to see who had just saved his life. His dark eyes sought and met blue-grey ones. With a quiet nod of his head, Lancelot thanked Galahad. A small smile crossed Galahad's features in reciprocation.

Without further thought, Galahad drew the small sword from its sheath hanging across his mare's shoulder and threw it at Lancelot. In one fluid motion, Lancelot dropped the broken sword to the ground and caught Galahad's blade by its hilt. The dark Sarmatian was just in time to avoid being severed in two by the huge sword of yet another Woad by stepping to his left side.

Taking over the attack, Lancelot thrust his right sword forwards. It impacted heavily with his opponent's left shoulder. Blood streamed down the Woad's arm, tainting it red instead of blue. The Woad put all of his strength behind another slash with his sword and the Sarmatian knight was forced to bring up Galahad's sword in his left hand to deflect the powerful blow. Lancelot instantly realized his mistake as the light sword was unable to even slow down the downwards motion of the Woad's long and heavy sword.

Unable to keep his balance, Lancelot lost his footing and stumbled forwards as he was pulled down with the sword in his left hand. He let go off the sword in an attempt to keep himself upright, but Lancelot knew it was too late already. His knees hit the wet muddy ground hard, but the pain was nothing compared with the sudden pain that seared through him as the Woad in front of him plunged a knife in his side between his ribs. His eyes went open wide as the air was knocked out of his lungs. He felt himself falling forwards further. The wet mud absorbed the force of the collision when his body reached the ground, but did nothing to absorb the excruciating pain that exploded throughout his entire body as the knife was driven in deeper. Darkness surrounded him quickly.

"LANCELOT!" Galahad's scream thundered over the battlefield as he watched Lancelot in horror once more. The dark knight lay unmoving at the feet of a Woad who was drawing his huge sword back to kill the Sarmatian definitely and finally.

Arthur turned around as he heard Galahad's frightened scream. In an instant he had brought up Excalibur and beheaded the Woad threatening to kill Lancelot with a powerful swing.

"Lancelot!" Arthur called out, his voice as thick with fear as Galahad's had been. His second in command was lying completely still, not responding to his commander's scream.

Another Woad attacked already before the Roman could make certain that Lancelot was still alive. Arthur fought even more vigorously than before and several more Woads littered around him, heads and limbs scattered everywhere it seemed. The other knights were working their way towards Arthur, aware already of what had occurred, and slowly they started to form a circle surrounding and protecting Lancelot. The fierce fighting was dying down.

Knowing that his knights would be able to handle the remaining Woads, Arthur dropped down to his knees next to Lancelot. Slowly he turned the unconscious knight on his back. Mud and blood covered the Sarmatian's face, but the ghostly paleness underneath was clearly visible. It was with a shock that Arthur became aware of the knife that was sticking out of Lancelot's side, only the hilt visible.

Tristan knelt down next to Lancelot as well, on his other side, facing Arthur. "We need to remove the knife, but we need to wait until we have something to stop the bleeding. Bandages," the scout stated. He looked around him briefly, before returning his attention to Lancelot again. "They are in my saddle bag. We'll have to wait until we can get to our horses."

Arthur surveyed the battlefield around him and rose to his feet. "I'll get them. Stay with him." Without waiting for a reply, Arthur ran towards their horses, Excalibur in his hand, ready for either attack or defense.

Tristan looked with great concern to the dark knight before him. The knife could have penetrated crucial places already, but he knew that pulling out the blade could be just as fatal.

It didn't take long before Arthur returned with Tristan's saddle bag. The scout quickly pulled out any bandages and cloths that would be of use. He turned towards Arthur. "It will be bleed heavily when the knife is removed. If you pull it out, then I'll press down on the wound as soon as it is out."

Arthur nodded in understanding. He moved his right hand to the hilt of the knife and gripped it tightly. He pulled on the knife, but it didn't yield to the Roman's surprise. Understanding dawned immediately. "It's caught between his ribs!"

Gawain and Galahad dropped down next to Arthur at the same moment, with Bors and Dagonet dealing with the few Woads left standing. Taking in the sight before them and Arthur's comment, they knew that it was going to require a lot of force and strength to get the knife out from between Lancelot's ribcage. The pain could wake him up. With one look at each other, Gawain moved to Lancelot's head where he placed his hands on the dark knight's shoulders, while Galahad moved to his legs, sitting across them, ready to keep the curly haired man down were he to awaken while Arthur attempted to distract the knife.

"Ready?" Arthur asked quietly. He had lifted himself on to his knees to be able to pull with as much strength as he could muster. Soft mumbling around him told him that the others were ready.

With both hands Arthur took hold off the knife and pulled with all his might. The Roman felt the knife give way slightly.

"Keep pulling!" Tristan said urgently, seeing the look of shock cross over Arthur's face as the horrible sound indicating the breaking of bones was clearly heard. A loud groan from Lancelot mixed with the cracking noise.

Arthur almost lost his balance as the knife suddenly came free, blood spurting up forcefully as soon as the knife was pulled from the flesh.

Tristan immediately pressed bandages against the wound, eliciting another loud groan from Lancelot.

"Are his ribs broken?" Arthur asked hesitantly, although certain of the answer already.

Tristan could feel the bones beneath his hands and the bandages moving slightly every time he changed pressure. He knew Lancelot was going to be in a lot of pain for some time to come. "Yes." Carefully, he checked under the bandages to see how freely the blood was still flowing. Quickly he pressed down on the wound again to staunch the still steady flow.

"It would be best if we get him back inside the fortress before he wakes up," Tristan stated.

The concern on Arthur's face was unveiled. He turned towards Galahad. "Your mare is the fastest."

Galahad nodded. Speechlessly he stood up and went to gather his white horse, leading her by the reins towards where Lancelot was lying. He waited patiently until Tristan thought the bleeding had slowed down enough to keep the dark knight from bleeding to death.

With Arthur's help, who held Lancelot up in a slightly sitting position, Tristan proceeded to bandage Lancelot as well as he could. The scout looked up to Galahad when he was finished. "Get him to Flavius as fast as you can!"

Galahad nodded his understanding and swiftly mounted his horse, while Arthur lifted the Sarmatian up in his arms. Dagonet approached as well and the two tall men carefully lifted Lancelot up into Galahad's saddle. The youngest of the knights wrapped his arm around Lancelot's chest. The head with the dark curls was lolling forwards limply. With a quick kick of his boots in his horse's flanks, he spurred his white mare on to great speed.

Arthur and the rest of the knights watched with heavy fear as Galahad galloped off fast towards the fortress.

–– 8 ––

Twelve hours later, Arthur was sitting next to Lancelot's bed. The dark knight was lying propped up on a mound of pillows, keeping his torso and head elevated to help him breathe more easily. His face was more a sickly grey than white.

Flavius had closed the knife wound with several stitches and explained to his brothers-in-arms that the ribs that were now broken had actually kept him from being wounded fatally. The old grey haired Roman healer had instructed Arthur to keep his knight in bed for at least a week. Arthur had rolled his eyes in response, while Flavius had chuckled softly. But Arthur knew that the broken ribs were going to be extremely painful for quite some time, and Lancelot might not even feel like getting out of bed that soon. He hoped.

Arthur's thoughts were interrupted by a low moan coming from the bed. Lancelot's eyelids fluttered slightly and Arthur moved to sit on the bed next to his best friend. "Lancelot?"

Lancelot's eyes almost immediately went open completely, surprise, pain and shock apparent on his face.

"Try to breathe calmly, with short shallow inhalations," Arthur tried to soothe the Sarmatian whose face lost all color.

"Wh…" Lancelot gasped for air at the pain that shot through him when he tried to speak. Drops of sweat were starting to form on his brow.

"Shhh… don't talk!" Arthur warned Lancelot. "Your ribs are broken, and you were almost knifed to death. It will be alright, but you need to stay still."

Lancelot closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing. Slowly the worst of the pain seemed to dissipate. He opened his eyes once more, and his gaze locked with Arthur's. "Gods…" he whispered, careful not to breathe in or out too abruptly.

"No, not God," Arthur replied, trying to lighten the mood a little. "A Woad, actually."

Lancelot didn't respond at first. Then he finally shook his head almost imperceptibly.

Arthur looked at the dark haired man questioningly. "Are you alright?" he asked, uncertain of what was happening.

"I guess I deserve this," Lancelot answered almost inaudibly.

"What?" Arthur's concern rose to new heights as he watched the Sarmatian with hawk's eyes.

Slowly Lancelot's eyes drooped close again, his breathing evening out with sleep claiming him.

Five minutes later, the Sarmatian knight woke up again, startling Arthur as he suddenly looked straight into the brown eyes again.

"What's going on, Lancelot?" Arthur asked softly. "Why do you say you deserve this?"

"It was my own fault," Lancelot stated. He continued slowly, breaking up his sentences as he tried to control his breathing. "My sword broke. Galahad gave me his small one. I used it like my own. Without thinking." Exhaustedly, he laid his head back down on the pillows, his eyes drifting shut once more.

Arthur tried to piece together what Lancelot was trying to say as the Sarmatian once again succumbed to sleep. This time the Roman had to wait nearly an hour before Lancelot woke up again, giving him enough time to draw his conclusions.

Lancelot's eyes opened slowly, but he had to blink several times before his vision cleared. He saw that Arthur was standing next to the window, staring into nothingness. He remained silent while he watched his closest friend deeply in thought. He concentrated on his breathing as the pain at his side and in his lungs blossomed to life again.

The door to his room opened and Gawain entered quietly. He blinked in surprise as he saw Lancelot looking at him. A slight smile sprung to his face. "Hey, you're awake."

Arthur turned around startled at Gawain's voice and looked over to the bed as well. Quickly he crossed the room and sat down on the chair at Lancelot's side. "It's not like you threw yourself at that knife, is it?" he continued their conversation like no time had passed.

"It was stupid," Lancelot replied softly.

"Maybe…" Arthur's voice was cut off as he heard Gawain chuckling quietly.

Both Arthur and Lancelot looked at the blond Sarmatian perplexed. Gawain only laughed louder in response. "Sorry…" he tried to apologize in between fits of laughter.

Arthur's eyebrows rose confused. Lancelot watched on in surprise.

"You and Galahad! You are a pair!" Gawain hiccuped with suppressed laughter. "He is blaming himself for your injuries because he threw you his sword, and you are blaming yourself for your own injuries as well!" Gawain couldn't stop chuckling loudly. "How about blaming the one who actually plunged that knife into you?" he added in a more serious tone.

"He's right, Lancelot," Arthur said, watching as the dark Sarmatian started to slip into sleep again. "Get some rest. You'll feel better soon."

–– 8 ––

Five days later, Lancelot had blamed about anyone for the pain he was going through – himself, the Woads, Galahad, Arthur, Arthur's God, every God from all existing religions, Flavius, Gawain, Dagonet or whomever else was telling him he had to stay in bed for at least a week.

Gawain escaped Lancelot's room relieved and almost bumped into Arthur and Galahad as they stood listening outside in the hallways. "Can't you just ask Flavius to keep him asleep for the rest of the week!" Gawain threw up his hands in despair. "He must be the most obnoxious patient ever!"

"Now, now, Gawain," Galahad said with his mouth curled into a mischievous smile. "You can't hold it against him. He's a bit unbalanced by everything that happened!" Galahad raised his voice slightly, knowing that Lancelot could hear them through the half open door.

"Unbalanced… I'll show you just how unbalanced I am when I get out of this bed again!" Lancelot's voice reached them clearly, even though he was talking subdued as not to hurt his ribs any further.

"Unbalanced? More like **deranged**!" Gawain added loudly, a wide grin on his face, trying to suppress the laughter inside of him, but failing quickly.

Gawain's laughter was infectious. Neither Arthur nor Galahad could hold back anymore either and joined Gawain in laughing out loud.

Inside the room, Lancelot closed his eyes and bit his lip, trying desperately not to laugh as his ribs were not healed well enough yet to withstand such an action.


End file.
